


Guardian Ghost

by AnnaTaure



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fake Character Death, Offscreen character death, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Poe is Bitter, Possibly Pre-Slash, The author is still salty, hux is bitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTaure/pseuds/AnnaTaure
Summary: After the battle of Exogol, Poe is tasked, among many things, to supervise negotiations between the Republic and the remains of the First Order. Facing him, General Enric Pryde is still determined to get rid of any obstacle between himself and power.Good thing for Poe, he seems to have his own personal guardian spirit.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Armitage Hux, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	Guardian Ghost

If Poe had been in a good mood, he might have felt some pity for General Enric Pryde. The man was there at the negotiations table basically as nothing more than an over-dignified ornament, while younger, lower-ranking officers did the actual work.

But as it happened, Poe was not in a good mood, and pity could not have been further from his mind. Six months ago, Kylo Ren had taken the old jerk out of whatever retirement he had slipped in, to raise him as Allegiant General and push Hux to the side. Pryde had wasted no time in cooking a scheme that would send Ren into a wild convor chase after the ghost of Palpatine, while he eliminated the high-ranking officers of the First Order to reinstate his own friends, and started a campaign that would sterilize several worlds. Surprisingly (or perhaps, not so much), a solution had come from General Hux. Knowing that his life - and his people's as well - was on the line, he had leaked Pryde's plan to both the Order and the Resistance, allowing the former to thwart the murders and the latter to find and capture Kylo Ren. 

He had paid this one good action with his life, though. Poe's only consolation was that Ren had died as well when the Resistance and their allies had cornered him on some backwater world. Rey had still not recovered from his death... 

No, Poe was not fuming over that fact. Why would he be angry that a supposed friend would 'fall in love' with a sadistic murderer who had targeted her and everyone that had ever gotten close to her? Sarcasm entirely intentional, of course. Finn had gone after her, which suited the negotiators just fine. The First Order representatives were quite nervous at the idea of having two Force-sensitives at the table. As for Poe, he was _done_ being scolded like a child for all his perceived faults. 

He knew he was not Leia, thank you very much. As if they did not stop telling him that every five minutes. As if they did not make him single-handedly responsible for every single death in battle over the past two years. He had stopped arguing a long time ago. He would see those negotiations to their end, and then resign and leave as far from everyone as he could. He had already sold the farm on Yavin IV. Thanks to having the leadership of the Resistance and its eleventh-hour allies dumped onto him when he had not asked for it, he could not even be present when his father died. Not that he really wanted to know what Kes thought about his actions, without Poe there to present his own version of the facts. 

_Well, at least I didn't arrive late to a battle with a bunch of bombers that could have been really useful had they been right on time, then refused to share my plans with my second in command before blowing myself up..._

Honestly, he almost preferred talking with the First Order representatives. They had expected him to shoot them on sight, so they were playing nice and polite. Some of them showed some curiosity about his career or homeworld as well, which he found almost cute. Not so cute was their age, though. Most of them were younger than him by several years. Apart from Pryde, Dopheld Mitaka was the only one around the table over thirty. The idea that he had probably killed thousands of people in their twenties or perhaps younger had given him nightmares for weeks, and that fact combined to the rest had sent Poe onto a slow but steady path to self-destruction. He desperately needed someone to sit with him and listen, just for once. To listen and not demand something of him. Swallowing his blaster to make an end looked more and more tempting as time went by. 

He would see the negotiations to their end. And then he would make _his_ end. 

*** 

As Poe had correctly guessed, General Pryde was currently not a happy man. In spite of executing Hux himself, he had seen his plot crumbling around his ears, leaving the younger officer to have the last laugh. And now he was stuck among Hux's cronies as the so-called leader of the First Order group negotiating with the Resistance, what remained of the Republic and a few independent systems. He needed to get rid of some of the diplomats around the table. To that end, he had reactivated several of his contacts in the underworld to find as much dirt on those people as humanly (or not) possible. His diligence had just been rewarded, as a group of pirates mixed with a few dealers had dispatched three of their adherents with, as they said, 'enough to bury General Dameron in shame'. Pryde knew he was going to enjoy that. 

To add some insult to the injury, he ordered Lieutenant Mitaka to meet with the trio and retrieve what they offered for blackmail. The man was still pathologically shy, so sending him to discuss with rowdy and crass pirates was guaranteed to put him ill-at-ease, at the very least. 

*** 

Mafo Harkeen considered himself a lucky guy, along with his pals Adem Korsu and Levila Radan. Soon, very soon, they were going to be wealthier than ever, all thanks to a sweet little prank they had pulled something like six years prior. 

Of course, General Pryde could not meet them in person; it would be rather embarrassing should he be seen in their company, so he had sent two of his men. Both were out of uniform, goes without saying, but their bearing screamed 'military', even though the youngest was singularly mousey. The other looked more professional: tall, dark-haired, his beard neatly trimmed... obviously there to protect the other. 

“Please take a seat, gentlemen,” he told them after introductions. “I am sure you will want to sample our offer.” 

“Indeed,” the bearded one replied as he sat, gingerly imitated by his colleague. 

*** 

Mitaka felt sick. He was glad to wear gloves, as they hid how his knuckles had turned white with how hard he gripped his datapad. For the past ten minutes, his friend and he had watched a holovid where a gang of five people - their three contacts included - dropped a naked, drugged (and very familiar) man on a bed and took turns at fucking him, pausing only to tie him up when whatever drug they had given him stopped working and he began to struggle. _That_ was what Pryde wanted to use as leverage? How low could he stoop, exactly? 

“What happened to your other two fellows?” his companion wondered. “Workplace accident?” 

Radan snorted. 

“Yeah, you could say that. They got greedy while making a deal with a Hutt. Heard he fed them to his gundarks.” 

“How dreadful...” 

“So, you think your boss will like it?” Harkeen interrupted. 

“Oh, I am sure he will.” 

Mitaka noticed the discreet gleam of a vibroblade going out of a sleeve, and checked his own. 

“But we don't.” 

*** 

Pryde cast a glance at the holographic clock on the desk of his suite. Mitaka should be back anytime, now. 

A timid knock on his door signaled the return of his agent. _Took him long enough_ , Pryde groused mentally as he clicked on the remote to open the door and admit Mitaka. 

“So, do you have the recordings?” he asked, not bothering to turn around. 

“Yes sir.” 

A pinch of charred, powdered plastoid fell on his desk. Pryde turned sharply, ready to give the lieutenant a piece of his mind... then stopped abruptly mid-gesture. It was not Mitaka facing him. 

“Surprise...” 

He barely had the time to open his mouth before the vibroblade stabbed him right through the heart. 

*** 

On the following morning, Poe found the First Order delegation quite... disordered, as it happened. With a bit of patience, he managed to understand that General Pryde had unfortunately succumbed to a stroke during the night, which put a part of their schedule and interventions in disarray, but no need to worry, they would have sorted everything by the afternoon. 

Pryde had company in the morgue, at least. From what Poe was told, three scoundrels had been found dead in a nearby alley, all of them killed by a precise stab through the chest. Either by a legitimate wish to check the reality of Pryde's death, or by morbid curiosity, Poe went to the hospital where the bodies had been autopsied and stored. If the medic thought his request was strange, he did not show it and admitted General Dameron into the morgue. Without surprise, Pryde had been killed by a knife rather than a stroke, and Poe suddenly wondered if the three pirates brought during the night had suffered the same kind of injuries. So he checked their corpses as well. No surprise there either, the wound was almost identical to what had killed Pryde. The woman in the group had been stabbed a bit lower than the men, but that was it. Poe did not feel particularly pleased, though. He knew these three thugs. He remembered them all too well from his first undercover mission, even before he had joined the Resistance, when the trio along with two of their pals had drugged him and used him for a whole night. 

Poe left the hospital in a hurry, part of his brain still locked on memories from six years prior while the rest tried to make sense of what could have happened. The fact those three bastards had been killed on the same night and in the same way as Pryde hinted at a relation between them. Possibly the late general had hired them to murder a few people during the negotiations, or to hack into someone's personal console. But they had an anonymous guardian angel, it seemed, one who was not afraid to get his or her hands dirty. 

He shook his head. He needed to think clearly for the next round of discussions. He would break down in the evening, when no one could see him. 

*** 

When Poe finally locked the door of his bedroom behind him, he was exhausted, physically and mentally. The peace talks were progressing well, true, but it meant that Poe's usefulness was coming to an end. Force, he was so _tired_... Throwing his jacket on the bed, he sat clumsily on the nearest armchair and closed his eyes, letting his head rest on the cushion. 

“You are getting sloppy, General.” 

Poe launched himself out of his seat, his heart beating madly against his ribs, his hand going for a blaster that was not there. When he saw the intruder, he admitted that Pryde could have very well died from a stroke, after all. That might happen when you faced a ghost. 

A healthy-looking ghost, mind you, and easily identifiable in spite of the dark brown dye that covered his hair and beard. Armitage Hux seemed much better than six months prior, when Poe had last seen him aboard the _Steadfast_. 

“Well,” the revenant said with an amused smile, “it worked better than I imagined...” 

“H... how?” Poe managed to croak. 

“May I take a seat, General? This might be a long conversation.” 

Poe nodded in a daze, and Hux sat in front of him, extending his left leg carefully. The pilot remembered that Finn had shot him there, rather than the arm - why had he done that, by the way? The arm would have been just as believable, and not impaired Hux if he had tried to run away. Well, it was not like Poe would have the opportunity to ask him; 'no Force-sensitive in a two klicks radius around him' had become his new rule of life. 

“So... how are you alive?” Poe asked as soon as he was settled. “Pryde seemed pretty adamant that he had shot you. In the chest.” 

Hux huffed. 

“That he did. No real surprise there, kicking people weaker than him was already his favorite pastime when I was a child.” 

Poe wisely refrained from asking how much and often Pryde had kicked a younger Hux. 

“So when I learned that Ren had recruited the asshole to replace me, I added a layer of blaster-proof material to my uniform. There's a reason I had it cut one size larger than needed, you know.” 

Of kriffing course he had a reason... Hux's reasons had secondary reasons inside... 

“And since there will never be a shortage of Mandalorians trying to one-up the Republic, I had a nice stash of beskar available in the First Order laboratories,” Hux went on. “It protected me well enough, even though I got an ugly burn and a fractured sternum, oh, and the medic had to reattach two ribs as well.” 

Poe winced in sympathy; he knew first hand how much a broken rib could hurt. 

“Mitaka helped me,” Hux said fondly, “then we gathered as many people as possible and left before the final battle. I had hoped Pryde would die there, but the mutiny was a nice touch. I heard that desertions more than tripled after he was put in charge of the troopers program.” 

“Can confirm.” 

The satisfied smirk that stretched Hux's lips was somewhat chilling. Poe coughed lightly, before asking: 

“I suppose you're the one who killed Pryde?” 

“Indeed. His plans were to remove several key participants in the negotiations to turn them to his advantage, and perhaps reignite the conflict. He targeted you in priority, hence the presence of those three... ruffians so close to him.” 

Poe felt his throat tighten. 

“So... you know,” he sighed, shame already overwhelming him. 

“I do. They insisted to show us... an abridged version of what they had done. It has been destroyed, in case you were wondering.” 

Poe let out a little sigh of relief, though part of the situation still escaped his understanding. 

“Why didn't you let Pryde use it? That would have given the Order an advantage in -” 

“Pryde is not the Order. He would have gladly watched us die if it meant he could rise to power. You have the discussions well in hand and I am confident you will manage to find a solution that does not involve a higher body count, particularly among my officers and students.” 

“You... trust me?” 

“With this, yes.” 

That was a little caveat, certainly, but it felt good to hear nonetheless. _Someone_ thought he did a good job and was ready to dirty their hands to protect him. 

“With my life as well,” Hux went on, “as I do hope that you will not reveal that I am still alive.” 

“Never!” Poe protested immediately. “You've just saved mine. Again. No one will know, I swear it.” 

He extended a hand, not sure how it would be received. Hux raised an eyebrow, and reached to take it nonetheless, shaking it shortly before taking a step back. 

“It was a pleasure, General Dameron, though I would suggest you retire as soon as possible, before this job sends you into a padded cell.” 

Poe snorted at that. 

“It's scheduled, as soon as the results of this conference are made public and applied” - he hesitated then added: “Where... should I wish to contact you, where can I find you?” 

That took Hux by surprise. He recovered quickly, as Poe assured profusely that he would keep the information to himself and never, ever use it to betray the other man. 

“I went back home,” Hux replied, “in as much as Arkanis can be labeled a home. Not near the Academy, though. The local climate does not suit my lungs anymore, so I relocated to warmer areas. Not quite tropical either, I did not survive Pryde to die of skin cancer.” 

Poe could not help it: he guffawed loudly, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. Who would have thought that Hux had a sense of humor? That was quite endearing, to be honest. And it made Poe wish he had more time to meet and know this new person better. But not today, it seemed. 

“I should go back to being officially dead, then,” Hux said, “before someone pays you a visit and finds me here. That would be rather embarrassing, don't you think?” 

“I suppose so. Well... if you're going back to Arkanis, I wish you a safe travel... and good luck for everything.” 

*** 

Two years later... 

Poe landed in the spatioport of Athinus, the second in size after Scaparus and the only other on Arkanis that could admit space-worthy freighters. The trip had been uneventful and no one had bothered him about where he was going or when he would come back. The perks of not being a public figure anymore... 

Most people did not pay him any attention as he wandered through the streets, looking for the address Hux had sent him months ago. They had remained in loose contact over the past two years, making sure every trimester or so that they were both all right. It had helped Poe to remain level-headed, speaking with someone who did not expect anything of him. 

At last he stopped in front of a rather spacious shop which offered repairs, do-it-yourself lessons and brand new parts. It also offered services such as upgrades on a local electric grid or how to improve the efficiency of a system. 

A real, metal bell rang when he entered the shop, and he waited by the side for the current customer to pass his order. The place was clean and well-organized, with chairs along a wall and a water fountain. Not surprising knowing how _ordered_ Hux could be. A pair of potted cactus seemed to have been added as a kind of warning, though. 

Once the client had left, Hux turned to face Poe, a little smile appearing on his face. 

“I had wondered if you would ever visit me,” he said as greetings. 

“Retirement was harder to get than I had thought,” Poe replied. “It's amazing the number of people who wanted me to stay, after they'd spend months telling me how much I sucked at command and I could never hope to emulate their beloved princess.” 

“Ironic indeed...” Hux muttered. “Guess a desert rat who can't even read or write her own name is not the ideal leader, and they wanted someone with more experience?” 

Poe shrugged. 

“There are plenty of people, fortunately, who know more of diplomacy, economics and such, than I do. Plus, Miss Rey and I parted on decidedly poor terms. She's claimed the name Skywalker for herself, and accepts being called 'Master', on top of everything. Doesn't matter that some of her mistakes more or less directly caused the death of all the remaining Skywalkers, or that she thought clever to bury their lightsabers on _Tatooine_ of all places, where all they got was trouble, slavery and death.” 

Hux emitted a whistle. 

“Well... she thought Ren was redeemable. After six years of close work with, or rather besides the man, I'd argue that he was beyond help. But who cares about what a Force-blind can say, eh?” 

Poe nodded sadly. 

“That's a part of the problem. I can't trust people who have the ability to go through my mind, and no training to tell them they should not.” 

Hux chuckled darkly at that, then went to the door and switched the light overhead to red. 

“Aren't we old bitter men, now? Well... let's forget all those gloomy thoughts for something more pleasant. Would you like a cup of tea?” 

“I'm more a caf person, but I'd like to try. Perhaps it will put me in a better mood.” 

“I'll take the bet.” 

And had he bet money on it, Hux would have won, as Poe indeed felt much better after two cups and lighter conversation. 

“So... any little Dameron terror ready to be unleashed on the galaxy yet?” Hux inquired after a quiet moment of companionable silence. 

“Nah. I thought about it, but I'm not sure I'm cut for family life. I've already lost three relationships or potential ones, and -” 

“Once bitten, twice shy. I understand.” 

“But I got another idea! There are plenty of kids who need a home, so I began fostering some one year ago. I have three little gremlins at home right now. The neighbours are watching them when I have to travel, and together we take care of the plants in our garden. Another neighbour comes for their lessons... It's nice. Tiring, but nice. I'll probably adopt one or two of them before long.” 

Hux nodded, his smile growing softer. 

“I can easily picture you with kids on your knees asking for a bedtime story,” he said without his usual snark. “So far, I have only been the side teacher for some children in the city, but... I happen to enjoy it. Due to the First Order biology program, however, I might have a few genetic children here and there, but I have never had any contact with them. It's safer for them, this way. I would not want any of them to suffer for my past actions.” 

“That's... a bit sad," Poe commented. "I mean, having children and never knowing them, how they're doing and what they like... but I suppose you're right about their safety.” 

“How long will you stay?” Hux asked after another moment. 

“I'm just supposed to unload and sell a few crates of fruits, and take some local products in. So I should be up again by tomorrow afternoon. I'm scheduled to come back within two months,” he added. “My employer is a firm believer in galactic unity, and flourishing trade routes are the best way to get that, he says.” 

Hux raised his cup for a toast. 

“To profitable trips and friendly chats. May they last long, and let us prosper.” 

Poe raised his own tea as well. 

“I second that. To long associations, and the friendship they might bring.”


End file.
